determinedly. ‘I’ve already made connections in the area and if I don’t take the risks, someone else has to.’
*
The Nazis kept Paris railway stations under close watch, but the Ghost circuit had good connections amongst railway workers.
Rosie made her five-hour train journey in first class. She carried nothing but clothes and toiletries, which made her much less stressed than when she’d gone in the opposite direction a few days earlier.
A young German officer with three missing fingers flirted until mercifully he left the train at Laval. On arrival in Rennes Rosie showed her immaculately counterfeited documents to a Gendarme manning the end-of-the platform checkpoint. Then she walked to a cafe two streets away and sipped vile acorn coffee until the stoker from her train dropped a bag under her table, then disappeared before she could even say thanks .
It was twelve kilometres to the house where she’d left Edith and the only way out was on foot. Luckily it was dry without being too warm, and despite aching feet Rosie burst into a run as the elegant house came into view. Was Edith dead or alive?
Rosie tugged on the doorbell, but nobody answered. After a circuit of the house, she forced the same small side window she’d escaped through a few nights earlier. Her landing on the drawing-room floor was painful and she clutched a palm as she raced upstairs.
Edith was alive, but still unconscious. Some of her bruises had turned from red to grey, but the infected wounds down her leg looked worse. Her temperature was high and both ankles were puffed up.
Rosie sat at the bottom of the stairs rubbing her aching feet as Joseph’s buggy pulled up outside. He gave her a hug and apparently bore no grudge over the way she’d disappeared, or the fact that she’d broken into his house.
‘I half expected you not to be there when I woke,’ Joseph said. ‘You looked wary when my mother showed you the dossier.’
Rosie helped him carry baskets of freshly-pulled potatoes and carrots into the kitchen.
‘Edith looks much the same,’ Rosie said.
Joseph shook his head. ‘I’ve been trying to force feed her using a stomach tube, but she brings most of it straight back up. And if she’s not eating, she can only get weaker. The worst of the infection is in her legs. We’re close to the point where the only option will be to have a surgeon amputate them, but I doubt she’s strong enough to survive the operation.’
Rosie looked shocked. The thought of someone Edith’s age losing her legs was almost worse than her dying. ‘Could penicillin still help?’
Joseph looked excited as Rosie unclipped her case and took out six carefully-wrapped glass vials.
‘Miraculous,’ he shouted. ‘I’ve studied its effects in medical school, but I’ve never actually seen it. And this looks like enough for several patients. My mother has another comatose patient who picked up an infection after giving birth. Can we use some for her?’
‘As long as there’s enough for Edith,’ Rosie said.
‘Of course,’ Joseph said. ‘I’ll get my medical bag and prepare her first dose.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Once Edith had been injected, Rosie began making soup with fresh veg, while Joseph went back out on the buggy with two vials of penicillin, trying to track down his mother.
After a day’s work Dr Blanc always rode out to eat an evening meal prepared by her son. She was complimentary about the soup, though in truth Rosie had done little but boil up vegetables, with salt and garlic as the only available sources of flavour.
Mother and son were both pleased to hear that the intelligence was valuable. And since they both knew who Rosie was there seemed little point hiding her next objective from them.
‘I’ve brought a small camera,’ Rosie explained. ‘I need to get out to the bunker and take photographs. I’ll also need to conduct longer term surveillance: watching who arrives, who leaves, what equipment goes in and
*
The Nazis kept Paris railway stations under close watch, but the Ghost circuit had good connections amongst railway workers.
Rosie made her five-hour train journey in first class. She carried nothing but clothes and toiletries, which made her much less stressed than when she’d gone in the opposite direction a few days earlier.
A young German officer with three missing fingers flirted until mercifully he left the train at Laval. On arrival in Rennes Rosie showed her immaculately counterfeited documents to a Gendarme manning the end-of-the platform checkpoint. Then she walked to a cafe two streets away and sipped vile acorn coffee until the stoker from her train dropped a bag under her table, then disappeared before she could even say thanks .
It was twelve kilometres to the house where she’d left Edith and the only way out was on foot. Luckily it was dry without being too warm, and despite aching feet Rosie burst into a run as the elegant house came into view. Was Edith dead or alive?
Rosie tugged on the doorbell, but nobody answered. After a circuit of the house, she forced the same small side window she’d escaped through a few nights earlier. Her landing on the drawing-room floor was painful and she clutched a palm as she raced upstairs.
Edith was alive, but still unconscious. Some of her bruises had turned from red to grey, but the infected wounds down her leg looked worse. Her temperature was high and both ankles were puffed up.
Rosie sat at the bottom of the stairs rubbing her aching feet as Joseph’s buggy pulled up outside. He gave her a hug and apparently bore no grudge over the way she’d disappeared, or the fact that she’d broken into his house.
‘I half expected you not to be there when I woke,’ Joseph said. ‘You looked wary when my mother showed you the dossier.’
Rosie helped him carry baskets of freshly-pulled potatoes and carrots into the kitchen.
‘Edith looks much the same,’ Rosie said.
Joseph shook his head. ‘I’ve been trying to force feed her using a stomach tube, but she brings most of it straight back up. And if she’s not eating, she can only get weaker. The worst of the infection is in her legs. We’re close to the point where the only option will be to have a surgeon amputate them, but I doubt she’s strong enough to survive the operation.’
Rosie looked shocked. The thought of someone Edith’s age losing her legs was almost worse than her dying. ‘Could penicillin still help?’
Joseph looked excited as Rosie unclipped her case and took out six carefully-wrapped glass vials.
‘Miraculous,’ he shouted. ‘I’ve studied its effects in medical school, but I’ve never actually seen it. And this looks like enough for several patients. My mother has another comatose patient who picked up an infection after giving birth. Can we use some for her?’
‘As long as there’s enough for Edith,’ Rosie said.
‘Of course,’ Joseph said. ‘I’ll get my medical bag and prepare her first dose.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Once Edith had been injected, Rosie began making soup with fresh veg, while Joseph went back out on the buggy with two vials of penicillin, trying to track down his mother.
After a day’s work Dr Blanc always rode out to eat an evening meal prepared by her son. She was complimentary about the soup, though in truth Rosie had done little but boil up vegetables, with salt and garlic as the only available sources of flavour.
Mother and son were both pleased to hear that the intelligence was valuable. And since they both knew who Rosie was there seemed little point hiding her next objective from them.
‘I’ve brought a small camera,’ Rosie explained. ‘I need to get out to the bunker and take photographs. I’ll also need to conduct longer term surveillance: watching who arrives, who leaves, what equipment goes in and
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